Running on Empty?

Every year during the Lenten time I always feel a deeper sense of the wonder and grace of God's gift of salvation through His Son's death on the cross. I read something by CS Lewis in his Lenten readings that made me want to think even deeper.  He was talking (in an excerpt from Mere Christianity) about how so many people try to find happiness in anything other than God.

He says: "the reason it can never succeed is this.  God made us: invented us as man invents on engine.  A car is made to run on gasoline, and it would not run properly on anything else.  Now God designed the human machine to run on Himself.  He Himself is the fuel our spirits were designed to burn, or the food our spirits were designed to feed on.  There is no other. That is why it is just no good asking God to make us happy in our own way without bothering about religion.  God cannot give us happiness and peace apart from Himself because it is not there.  There is no such thing," pg 54.

I have to be honest; I've not been fueling up as regularly as I ought.  I'm afraid that sometimes I've even let myself run on "E." And then I have to ask myself why I'm willingly running on fumes when I could fill up on God?  Why do I let myself get to this state--hoping and hoping that my tank doesn't run dry before my next "experience" at the pump?  I need to remember Lewis's quote and fill up daily.  Life with God is soul-fulfilling; it's not like a diet meal, either.  It's meat and potatoes in a Slim Fast world.

Before my spiritual tank runs low, I need to take daily Sustenance.  If He is the food my spirit is to feed on, I need to dine at that sumptuous table instead of nibble on the celery and carrot equivalent.  The soul doesn't need to diet (even if I do), and God provides a feast daily.  His mercies are new every morning. Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ--not death, not life, not angels, not demons, not height, not depth.  These sayings are true and good; why do I deny myself this by waiting so long that I begin to run on empty?  I think it's because I try to feed myself; even when I know that my spirit runs on Him, I try to find ways to be happy on my own.

That's why this Lent and Easter I again sit at His table and know how wide and long and high and deep is the Love of Christ.  I need to remember that I can never get too much at His table--and that it is with Christ Himself I am fulfilled.  Instead of filling myself with things that cannot satisfy, I take the Bread and sip the Wine that is His sacrifice.

I'm reminded of a story I heard once about the difference between heaven and hell.  A man went to the Pearly Gates and was given a choice.  He was shown to two rooms.  In each room there was a table filled with good drinks, sumptuous foods, and all manner of wonderful things.  In each room there were people gathered round the tables.  In each person's hand was the utensil that would allow him/her to eat of the food of the table.  The forks, however, were three feet long.  In one room, there was wailing, gnashing of teeth and starvation.  In the other room the people were happy, healthy, and fulfilled.  The difference?  In the first room each person was starving, despite the groaning table, simply because each person tried to feed him or herself.  In the second room, each person fed the person across from him or her, and each was filled.

I need to remember these things: well before I am running on empty and starving for fuel, I need to fill up on Christ. But, not only that... I need to share that Love of Christ with everyone around me so that they, too, are filled--and I need to let them be Christ's Ambassadors to me as well.

Trail-making...

“The footsteps of the Apollo astronauts left on the moon will never blow away, never erode; they will be there forever.”

 I heard or saw this quote somewhere; I gave it to my students, too, as a journal to think and write about.  But I couldn't stop there--I had to write about it, too.  I claim I write what I ask the students to write about so I can "model" the way to write... but in all honesty, I write what I ask the students to write because I, too, am a student...still learning and still "growing my thoughts" about my world view.  So here is my response to that quote....

Henry David Thoreau wrote about the earth being soft and how easily it is for mankind to leave its mark on it. In Walden he said, “The surface of the earth is soft and impressionable by the feet of men.” He wasn’t happy with that fact—that mankind has such an impact on the face of the earth. He also says, “It is remarkable how easily … we fall into a particular route, and make a beaten track for ourselves.” Years later, even, the path that he unintentionally made from his front door to Walden Pond was still visible. 

He didn’t like it; he would rather “go where there is no path and leave a trail” instead of follow in the tracks of those who walked there before him. He felt that it was the height of conformity to do as others had done. He, in his rebellion against conformity, wanted to break the mold, to do that which hadn’t been done, and to carve a new path.

But what about us? What are we to do? If, as Thoreau said, the earth’s highways and byways are worn smooth by the many feet of those who have gone before, how are we to make our marks on the world? The Apollo astronauts, in their “one small step for men, one giant leap for mankind,” have left behind prints that no wind can erase, no water can erode, nor moth and rust destroy. Is there any place that no one has ever been? Is there something that no one has ever done? How are we to leave behind us the indelible footprints that show where we’ve been?

Some people, in order to leave behind them a legacy, build monuments to themselves; others give money to charities or create scholarships in their names; still others, without the means of the first two groups, have children in order to pass on the family farm, name, or other boon. But what if we’re not supposed to look merely at the stuff one leaves behind, but the WAY one walked as one left footprints? What if ALL of our footsteps were indelible? What if when we walk, we ARE the Apollo astronauts stepping onto the moon for the first time?

Thoreau and the Apollo astronauts had the right idea—this path we take is not for the faint of heart.  We must be willing to face up to those who say we cannot do it and show them it can be done.  We must live our lives with the knowledge that we are leaving a path for mankind to follow.  Our path may not be on the soft surface of the earth or the powdery surface of the moon, but we do leave a trail.  People all around us notice our walk—our path—and that fact means we need to be careful in choosing it.

What will those who come behind us find when they follow in our steps? Will our footprints show us to be true to the path we were walking? Thoreau mentioned it—he didn’t want to take a “cabin passage” on his journey. He wanted to “ride before the mast,” but even in his doing so, he found he could not help but make a trail. 

What, then, about my path? Will those who come behind me find a path that leads to new discoveries, gracious footsteps that lead one further on and further in, faithful to the end? Or will they find that my path went wandering down rabbit trails, loitering in front of scurrilous shops, or down dark and desolate alleys?

What will my footprints say of me? I pray that those who come behind me find me faithful to my calling. I hope that my steps lead people toward the light instead of into the darkness. I want my life to leave a legacy that shows I was about the Master’s business instead of my own.  I must determine what those people who follow in my footsteps find.  I must choose the narrow way, even when that way seems hard and lonely.  I must walk the righteous path, even when I would rather find an easier way.

Will my indelible footprints on the surface of the road I walk lead others to greatness?  Will they show that I gave my best even when I was weary?  Will they show that I helped others when I could?  Will they show that even in my darkest moments I was walking toward the light, even if I couldn’t see it at the time?  Did I strive toward the goal set before me to win the prize?  If I stumbled, did I get back up again?  If I strayed, did I get back on the right path?  For if I did… then I will not have walked in vain, and I can trust that those who follow me will not be disappointed.